A Study in Time
by TheTimetravellingAlien
Summary: The Doctor, having ended up in 21st Century London, is brutally stabbed, ending up in hospital. A bored G. Lestrade sends Sherlock to investigate this, and little do either of them know WHO they have met.
1. Chapter 1 - the mugging and the alien

**Hello people, first chapter there. this started out as my RP idea, which then developed into... Well, this. Enjoy, review and follow 3**

The Doctor ran, his trench coat flapping around his legs. Aliens - he could deal with. Supernatural creatures and ghosts - no problem. But NEVER had he been confronted with a 21st Century mugger. For once in his life he was actually afraid. Dashing into a narrow street, he paused to catch his breath. Suddenly, a knife was thrust into his body. Falling to his knees, the Doctor gripped his stomach as he felt all his energy drain away. The man who stabbed him searched his pockets and, finding nothing of interest, sprinted off, leaving the Doctor's broken body lying on the street carelessly. He couldn't regenerate - not now. Feeling the life seep out of him, he could swear that his ears picked up the sound of blaring sirens.

Lestrade's past days had been quite uneventful - until he heard about the mugging. Reassured that an ambulance was on its way, the man promptly texted Sherlock, assuming that the consulting detective would be as bored as he was, and would, for once, cooperate. Telling the detective to head straight to the hospital, Lestrade decided that it would be best if he stayed where he was for now, so he left Sherlock to investigate further. Little did either of them know about the person that was about to enter their lives - the Doctor was finally back.


	2. Chapter 2 - A certain Detective

**Well hello again! The chaper no one had been waiting for had arrived! Love you all, enjoy, and sorry they're all so short. I will start writing them longer, I promise!**

Alive. He sighed in relief. Yes, he was still alive. His eyes opened slowly, to bright LED lamps and an excruciating headache. Still, he kept them open to survey his current surroundings. Gazing to his left, he noticed a tall, black-haired man, preoccupied with staring out of the only window in the room. Thinking of nothing better to say, the doctor asked wearily,  
"Excuse me, would you mind telling me where I am?".  
"At a hospital. You were stabbed." Was the reply.  
The Doctor rolled his eyes. Great, he thought. Hospitals were never his thing, and he hated them. Ironically he WAS known as the Doctor.  
"No, no!" He said, his voice hoarse and weak. "I mean the century, of course! Give me an exact date!"

The tall man turned, staring at the Doctor now. It was visible that even he was slightly baffled by the unusual question.  
"Um... Seventeenth of November, Twenty Thirteen." He stated. However, what the Doctor said next baffled the detective even more:  
"Ah. 21st Century! Brilliant!" He grasped. "That's where the Famous Mr Holmes is from. Always fancied meeting him myself!" Of course, the Doctor had seen books and blogs and all sorts of accounts about the famous detective - he knew all about the man.  
Sherlock's eyes narrowed when he heard the odd man speak again.  
"Mr Holmes?" He muttered. "You mean... Mycroft?"... Any mention of his brother drove him insane.  
"No," the Doctor paused. "Mycroft? Never heard the name! The man I meant was Sherlock Holmes, the detective. Yes, yes." He nodded, remembering.  
Sherlock's mouth opened in shock.  
"Who the hell are you?!" He demanded, unable to get his head round this. There was something strange about the man before him, something even he couldn't read.  
Oblivious of the detective's tone of voice, he beamed.  
"I'm the Doctor! And you, I see, are Mr Holmes himself! Wow!"  
Sherlock froze.  
"Doctor?" He asked cautiously, turning to face the odd man. "Doctor Who?"


	3. Chapter 3 - Doctor Who?

**Sorry, had been away for a while... BUT I'M BACK! Up and writing more chapters! Enjoy this one!**

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Gasping, the Doctor snapped out of the swirling blackness, the world around him more of a drunken hallucination than consciousness. Gripping his head, he tried to sit up, and this time, the attempt was successful.  
"You blacked out." Sherlock smirked. He was now sat next to the bed, waiting, twiddling with his phone carelessly.  
Remembering everything, the Doctor's eyes drifted up to the ceiling, then lowered down as the question - the oldest question in the Universe, rang in his weary head.  
"Just... The Doctor." He nodded solemnly. It always started with that question. He smiled faintly, but soon his face took on a concerned expression.  
"Coat..." He mumbled, then decided to ask, "Have you seen my coat? There is something in the pocket that is... Um... Of great importance to me."  
Sherlock gazed around briefly, before handing the trench coat to the Doctor. Taking out his screwdriver, the Time Lord stared at it for a brief moment, then turned to place it back into his pocket. With a nimble gesture, Sherlock ripped the device out of his hand and examined it closely. The Doctor didn't object - he was too tired to even speak.

"I kept them from operating your ribcage." Sherlock spoke suddenly. "I suppose there would be things you'd want to keep private." Winking, he returned the screwdriver to the alien in front of him.

The Time Lord sighed with relief.  
"Thank you" he managed to utter.

"Tell me, Doctor..." The detective began, then paused for a brief moment, chewing on his bottom lip, "are you an alien?" Even Sherlock thought that sounded absurd, but nothing could explain the Doctor's strange behaviour, confusion about the date, and, most extraordinarily, two beating hearts.

For a split second, the Doctor lingered, unsure of what to say. Reluctantly, he chose to trust the man, for a reason even he could not define.  
"Yes, I am." He said, letting the conversation kick off.


End file.
